


If you'll have me

by rookiehedgewitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Let me have my gay angel, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rookiehedgewitch/pseuds/rookiehedgewitch
Summary: Time works different in heaven, so Dean isn't sure how long he'd been up here when Castiel shows up on his porch.A very short one-shot of a reunion between Dean and Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85





	If you'll have me

Bobby was right. Time was different up there. Sam arrived, and not long after Eileen showed up too. They set up in a house down the road from Dean. It was nice. Cozy. Lots of books, a big fireplace, and a big sunny craft room, with a guitar for Eileen, and a loom for Sam. Because apparently Sam just got witchier with age. Dean wasn’t going to question it, and he certainly wasn’t going to refuse the blankets Sam made him. Those were some damn comfortable blankets. 

Dean had his own place, too. Dark wooded floors, a tiled kitchen, and a well-stocked wet bar, just like the one back in the bunker. But it didn’t always feel as warm as Sam and Eileen’s place, even with all the blankets. On the nights when the whole family would come over for dinner, and Eileen would play and Dean would bake pie, and his dad would grill, Dean thought it felt warmer. But then after he had waved everyone goodnight, and let the screen door swing shut behind them, he felt a chill. Like there was a hole in the house somewhere, letting in the cold summer air. But of course there couldn’t be a hole in the house. Dean expected the craftsmanship up here to be pretty high quality. 

Again, as Bobby said, time was different up there. So it was hard to tell how many family dinners had passed before Dean found himself sitting outside on his porch chair, staring up at the perfectly clear night sky, ears tuned to the sound of his mom’s pretty voice singing along to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac. The others were inside, enraptured by Mary’s performance, so they hadn’t seen him slip out. He wasn’t sad, he didn’t really think it was possible to be sad up here, he just wanted to see the sky. Vast and calm. Sometimes he wondered what he was looking at when he looked at the sky. Not real stars, so what then? 

Behind him, Dean heard the creaking of floorboards under the weight of footsteps.

“Sammy, you ever wonder if Jack’s up there watching? Sitting on some La-Z-Boy made out of, I dunno, clouds? Just sitting up there, eating popcorn with Cas, them laughing every time I burn a pie?” He said, not taking his eyes off of the darkened sky. 

“The popcorn would be unnecessary, seeing as we don’t eat. I thought I’d already told you that.” The familiar, gravelly voice sent a searing bolt of electricity through Dean’s spine. And while he couldn’t bring himself to look, he heard the creak of the porch floor and the squeak of the metal chair next to him. And a familiar smell like campfire and linens, fresh out of the dryer, washed over his senses. 

“Took you long enough. I thought I’d need to start causing trouble to get you to show up.” Dean said, his voice breaking as he spoke. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I wanted to come sooner. But the transition of power and reorganization took some time. Jack and I were met with some resistance, but I believe we were able to smooth things over for the time.”

“So, what, you’re Jack’s right hand man now?”

“I was. In fact, I was in charge of helping the remaining angels acclimate to assist Jack. But once that was done, there wasn't much for me to do. Plus, there were other places I wanted to be. Other people I wanted to be with, that is, if they’ll have me.” 

Dean couldn’t see the sky clearly now. His tears blurred the stars and the moon and the mountains into the distance into a hazy, shadowed blur. But when he turned to look at Cas, those Dean could see those blue eyes with perfect clarity. 

“You know my answer Cas.” Dean choked out, letting tears roll down his cheeks. Cas paused, his expression unreadable, before speaking again.

“I actually don’t know your answer. So if you could be a bit clearer, that would be really-” Before Cas could finish, a massive form crushed the angel in a bear hug, a shaggy mop of brown hair obscuring Castiel’s face. 

“Cas!” Sam grinned, squeezing the angel tight enough to pop him. “Guys!” He called back into the house. “Cas is back!” 

And suddenly, Castiel was swept into the house in a sea of hugs, leaving Dean, and his answer, out on the porch. After calming his nerves, Dean found Castiel standing with a plate stacked high with food, looking very much overwhelmed. 

“Come on, Cas, what have you been up to all this time?” Sam said, looking like an excited puppy. Which was nothing compared to the actual puppy that was currently circling Cas’ feet. 

“There’s a dog in the house.” He said, staring at Miracle’s expectant face.

“Oh, that’s Miracle. He’s a sweetie. But tell us, where have you been all this time? We were waiting for you.” Eileen smiled. Cas shot Dean a questioning look, and Dean shrugged, as if to say: “give the people what they want.” 

Cas explained, and the night rolled on. The sun was just about to rise when Mary finally noticed Dean’s head drooping on his shoulders, and ushered everyone out. 

“See you tomorrow for poker?” Bobby asked, the last of the group to leave.

“Sure thing. See you tomorrow.” Dean waved. And then it was just him and Castiel. The angel hovered in the living room, staring down at his hands. 

“I suppose I should go, I don’t want to bother-”

“Oh no.” Dean said, grabbing the angel’s hand before he could poof away. “You’re staying here.” 

“You want me to stay?” Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Of course I do.” 

“But in the bunker, you seemed unsure. I thought perhaps you wished I hadn’t said it.” Dean watched the beginnings of panic creep into the angel’s voice, and he knew Cas well enough that if he didn’t end this now, he would spend the entire night explaining every little detail. So he stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and the angel. Castiel’s lips were impossibly warm, and Dean felt every inch of himself light ablaze. When he stepped back, the angel’s blue eyes were wide, and his cheeks and ears were bright red. 

“We can talk about this more tomorrow, but if I don’t go to bed this instant, I might die of exhaustion. And I know what you’re going to say, that’s not possible because I’m already dead. It’s just an expression.” Dean turned, dousing the flames in the fireplace and switching the lights to the living room off. He stood on the bottom step of the stairs leading up to the bedroom, and turned back to Cas. The angel was staring up at Dean, with a look on his face that Dean thought seemed almost reverent. 

“So, you staying?” Dean asked, quirking a brow. Castiel seemed to find himself, a small smile gracing his lips. The angel crossed the room towards Dean, twining his fingers through Dean’s.

“Yes, I think I will stay.” 

And that night, as Dean drifted off in the arms of a being that needed no sleep but was willing to try it out, the house felt warm. 

Time worked differently up in heaven, so Dean wasn’t entirely sure how many times he’d woken up to a mouthful of black feathers - apparently Cas liked to sleep with his wings out - or came home after a long drive to find the angel reading on the couch with Miracle at his feet. He wasn’t sure how many times he’d been so overwhelmed by his love for Castiel that he couldn’t help but sweep the angel up into a kiss, but he did know that each time felt like the first.


End file.
